


Lightbulb

by shlynn



Series: SterekFlashFic on Tumblr [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek hates everything, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Happy, Laughter, Loft, M/M, Self Prompt, Stiles is an idiot, Tumblr, lightbulb, prompt, sterekflashfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shlynn/pseuds/shlynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How many werewolves does it take to change a lightbulb?"</p><p>Stiles is practically vibrating with the effort it takes not to make this joke. He’s got a fist pressed tight against his lips and is doing his best to hold his breath, but from the way Peter is smirking at him from the staircase, he figures he’s probably not being very subtle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightbulb

**Author's Note:**

> so, prompt is as the title says. working off a list i came up with myself, mostly just to try to grease the wheels and get some writing going.
> 
> most of what i write is meant to be sterek, but nothing really happens in this one, sorry, ahaha. maybe if you squint...? gah.

_"How many werewolves does it take to change a lightbulb?"_

Stiles is practically vibrating with the effort it takes not to make this joke. He’s got a fist pressed tight against his lips and is doing his best to hold his breath, but from the way Peter is smirking at him from the staircase, he figures he’s probably not being very subtle.

Derek, Isaac, and Scott stand in the middle of the concrete floor, taking turns exchanging glances with one another and staring up at the burnt-out lightbulb fixed into the loft’s ceiling, a good thirty feet above them. Scott just sort of has his usual idiot puppy face on, while Isaac shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. Derek, though -

Derek looks _furious_.

Which - it’s mean, okay, Stiles knows it’s mean - is freaking hilarious. It is maybe the funniest thing Stiles has ever seen and seriously, it’s so mean, oh my god Stiles, stop, seriously.

Derek huffs for what has to be the fifth time in as many minutes, hands planted firmly on his hips as he tries to, what, glare the lightbulb into working again?

Stiles just - oh my god, he can’t even.

"Did you, uh… Is there a spare somewhere?" Scott asks finally, coughing a bit and shrugging. He seems to be the only one in the room who hasn’t caught on to Derek’s fierce resentment at the situation at large.

Peter hums.

"Don’t know if we ever got ourselves quite so settled in, hm nephew?"

At least Stiles isn’t the only one in the room who is painfully amused. And really, better that Peter shove it in Derek’s face than Stiles. He can heal from any frenzied mauling it provokes.

Derek’s lip curls up and he grunts out a negative. If his glaring intensifies, Stiles can’t tell - his focus doesn’t leave the lightbulb.

And really, it’s unnecessary ire - the loft is still decently lit, with several other yellowing bulbs still flickering away dutifully from the rafters. It’s - _industrial chic_ , Stiles thinks he remembers Lydia saying that, maybe. It’s fine, really.

Derek looks like his trust has been deeply betrayed.

And Stiles - he can’t help it, okay, it’s just - Stiles loses it. He can’t, okay, he can’t. It’s so mean but it’s not fair that Derek can look this affronted because an old-ass lightbulb finally decided to die on him.

It’s hysterical, really, and Stiles has to grip the edge of the table he’s leaning on to hold himself up under the force of his laughter. Isaac jumps, startled by the noise and knocking into Scott’s side. Scott, whose eyes are wide but whose mouth is slowly splitting into a fond grin.

"S-sorry, it’s just -" Stiles can’t even get the words out, and Peter rolls his eyes and stands (though the corners of his mouth are turned up, it seems) and strolls towards the door.

"I’ll pop down to the corner store," he drawls, and it’s so absurd - their resident creepy werewolf murderer headed out on a household errand - Stiles crouches down to the floor, eyes squeezed shut.

Oh Christ, he can’t breathe.

Derek’s still scowling, but the tips of his ears are turning red and he’s finally torn his eyes away from the lightbulb to stare grumpily out the window over Stiles’ head. Scott’s guffawing along with him now, nudging into Isaac’s side with his elbow. Even Isaac cracks a small smile, like he’s in on the joke.

There’s a fizzing noise, and above their heads the bulb next in line quivers and goes out.

Stiles _screams_ with laughter.

Derek snarls at the noise, sharp and echo-ey in the openness of the loft, and stalks over to wear Stiles is now flat on his back on the floor, shaking like a maniac and gasping for air. He yanks Stiles into sitting by his upper arm.

"Shut. Up." he grits out, and Stiles’ eyes peel wide, his face red and blotchy from his fit, and tries to stop his giddy outburst.

Oh god, he can’t -

One second his cheeks are puffing up with held-in breath and the next he’s spitting all over Derek’s face, he’s pretty sure, he can’t even tell because Derek drops him like burning and Stiles is collapsing back in on himself on the floor.

"Stiles, dude -" Scott starts, but he’s laughing too, and when Stiles throws his head back to laugh some more, he peeks at Isaac’s goofy embarrassed grin and can’t _stop_.

He’s dizzy, truth be told, and the laughter in the room sounds so strange and the whole situation is so freaking weird that he actually can’t stop. It’s starting to hurt. Derek’s still grumbling, which isn’t helping, and Stiles lets out a long whine on his next exhale as he continues to seize up.

"Huuurts," he cries, tears streaming down his face as his mouth splits his face apart with his crazy-ass smiling. Above him, he hears Derek sigh, and it’s more resigned than angry now.

"You’re an idiot," he growls, but Stiles can hear the smile in it, and his hysterics finally wind down enough for him to take a deep breath and look up at Derek’s face through wet lashes.

Derek’s shaking his head, his arms still crossed over his chest, but the corner of his mouth is pulling up from where he’s trying to seal it in a stubborn line. Stiles wipes his eyes, letting out a long groan and grins his response.

He’s pulled up and placed on his feet beside Derek before he’s even dried his cheeks, and he grunts his thanks as he leans up into a stretch - man, that got his stomach muscles tight - and then there’s a crackling sound and the next bulb dies.

Derek throws his hands up in the air. Scott and Isaac _howl_ with glee.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me and send me your prompts on tumblr, pretty please!
> 
> sterekflashfic.tumblr.com


End file.
